Dry, it’s real. “Hello,” I whisper. No answer, no echo. Louder. Still nothing. Loudest. Still quiet as death. I can’t feel my body, can’t m...ve a finger or toe. “Where can I be?” I ask out loud, as I slip back into sleep. I’m awake, suddenly. An echo returns the click of a latch. Eyes open. Only darkness. I close them, yet it’s no darker. I feel warm. My legs and arms seem bare, but I can feel them, and move them. Damn! Just barely. I’m tied up. His handiwork, again. I am on something soft,. ’Under her instruction, I managed to build up a rhythm.Then she asked, ‘what are we doing David?’‘Having sex.’ I answered.‘No, what’s the rude word?’Surely she didn’t mean the ‘F’ word.‘Say it David, what are you doing to me?’‘I’m fucking you aunt Betty,’ half expecting a reprimand.‘And where are you fucking me?’‘In your bed.’ I’m not sure why I gave such an inane response. I heard an almost imperceptible sigh of irritation.‘Say it David, it makes it better.’Taking a deep breath, I said, ‘I’m. “I’ll have juice, coffee and an English muffin,” she told the server.“Two eggs poached,” Darren ordered. He gazed across the table at her. “So, Marcia -- do you have any children?”She shook her head. “No. Rob doesn’t want any.”“Do you want any?”“I think that ship has sailed,” she replied.“I don’t think so. You’re young -- thirty-one. You still have time.”“Rob’s pretty dead set against it. How about you?”“I have a son.”“Really? How old?”“He’s twenty.”She shook her head in disbelief. “Twenty. How. She told them all just where they could stick their oysters, she would be having something far less likely to give her food poisoning.We had our campsite set up, and since it was only a short walk to the main beach, we changed into our swimming costumes, and headed to the beach. We spent the afternoon lying in the sun, catching the waves, and generally relaxing. Dinner was at the Port Macquarie Hotel, a rather enjoyable counter meal in their back bar. It was then back to our campsite; we sat.